


Cursed

by Avistella



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 13:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17407607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avistella/pseuds/Avistella
Summary: Alfonse is cursed to die, but your comfort is a solace.NOTE:Spoilers for Book 3, Chapter 3





	Cursed

**Author's Note:**

> I rewrote one of my Alfonse/OC fics into a reader-insert; I apologize if I accidentally missed changing some details.

_It hurts. It hurts… It hurts—_

The heavy and constricting feeling in Alfonse’s chest gets worse and worse. It’s like Hel had unflinchingly wrapped her fingers around his beating heart and squeezed and squeezed and _squeezed_. The prince’s fingers dig into the dirt below him, getting underneath his fingernails. The white of his pants become stained from the ground he had collapsed to after being cursed as he tries to fight off this feeling.

It pains him. It agonizes him. It’s _consuming_ him, and there’s nothing he can do to make it all go away. He’s vaguely aware of his surroundings, but the lack of air in his lungs is making him dizzy and confused.

A fog hangs over in his mind, like his head’s been stuffed with cotton, but he tries to focus on the concerned voices of his dear sister and trusted Commander. Their voices sound so distant and far away, and it only continues to fade further and further away into the background, like his consciousness is slipping through his fingers.

He should have listened to his father. He should have paid better heed to his warning. He had thought that he understood, but he was mistaken, and he overestimated himself. What was it that fueled his actions to engage with Hel rather than run away like instructed? Was it arrogance? Pride? …Or was it rebellion? Did he simply want to prove his father wrong? Did he want to prove himself worthy of his title as prince?

Just when the cursed prince is about to give up and accept this pain to consume him entirely, he hears a voice ring out in the air, loud and clear. It cuts straight through the heavy weight of his emotions, dispelling the fog in his mind and causes him to regain his focus, even if only for just a little.

“ _Alfonse!_ ”

Everybody wordlessly parts to the side to make for you as you rush your way over to the young man. They all hold a pitying gaze behind their eyes as they watch you, but you pay them no mind. You don’t care about that right now. You fall to your knees in front of the doomed prince, your hood having fallen off during your rush to tend to Alfonse, revealing that your eyes are full of tears. Horror and fear are twisted onto your features, but you try to will them away as you lift up your hands and rest them on Alfonse’s cheek.

Your touch is soft. Your fingers are trembling, visibly so, but there is so much gentle care behind them that Alfonse chooses to focus on that sensation instead of the sinking and vice-like grip on his heart that Death cast upon him. Where Hel had left dread and despair, you give him warmth, and he can feel your unspoken love by the way you hesitate to hold him. You’re afraid of losing him, and he… _He’s afraid of leaving you._

He warned you before, time and time again that you mustn’t grow close with others. It will only hurt when they leave you all alone in the end. But you had grown close to him, and now there’s a possibility of leaving you alone. He had so desperately wanted to spare you from that heartache.

“Alfonse… Alfonse, please…” You beg him over and over again, unknowing of what it is exactly that you’re pleading for. _Don’t die? Don’t leave?_ Would it be appropriate to say such things? Your voice cracks in a way that sends the prince’s own heart shattering into a million pieces.

Although his body protests, Alfonse fights through the pain. He forces himself to focus on you and nothing else. Not the way his lungs desperately scream for air or the gazes of the Heroes witnessing his suffering. Only you. Only you matter. His breathing is stifled, and it feels like some savage beast is mercilessly clashing at his chest, but he ignores all of that for now and manages to bring himself to lift his arms. Confusion etches its way onto your features as to what Alfonse’s intentions may be, but then your eyes widen when he pulls your figure in towards his heaving chest.

A soft gasp slips through your mouth at the action, and although your embarrassment makes you want to pull away, you can’t bring yourself to do so. Not when… Not when there’s a real chance of losing him thanks to Hel’s curse. So instead, you return his fragile and quivering embrace with your own firm and reassuring one.

The surrounding Heroes linger around the two of you, uncertain of how to proceed or whether it’d be appropriate to interrupt the two during such an intimate moment. Sharena looks like she’s about to burst into tears, and the other two princesses, Eir and Fjorm, try their best to console her. Even Anna, the ever so reliable Commander of the Order of Heroes, seems to have a troubled look on her face. This whole situation must be agonizing for her, too.

“We need to get you somewhere safe,” you whisper in Alfonse’s ear, trying to keep your voice from shaking as you listen to his ragged breaths.

“ _Stay_ …” He somehow manages to force out. He sounds so weak and vulnerable…

“Alfonse, we can’t stay here—” You misunderstand what he means and try to reason with him, only to be cut short when the prince faintly squeezes you tighter.

“Stay with me… _Please_ … _I’m so scared_ ,” Alfonse confesses in a low voice but still loud enough to be heard by you and you alone. The way his body quivers against yours show that there is truth in his words, not that it’s necessary. You can hear it in his tone. He sounds so broken and defeated, terrified like a lost child. It almost sounds like he’s ready to start crying at any second.

“Of course I’ll always stay with you,” you assure him, holding him close to you and nuzzling your face into his hair.

Relief washes over Alfonse for only the briefest of seconds before the pain of his new curse returns to him, much stronger now. He doesn’t know how long he’ll retain consciousness. Even though Hel said he has nine days left to live, can he trust her words? How can he be certain that this won’t be the last time he closes his eyes?

He feels your breaths on his ear, but your voice is starting to grow distant and fade away, leaving him. He can no longer make out the words you’re saying, so he pulls back from your embrace for a moment. If he is to die, then the last thing he wants to see is your face looking at him. He tries to burn the image of your face into the back of his mind before darkness takes hold of him.


End file.
